


Velleity

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anonymous Sex, Consensual Infidelity, Drama, F/M, Implied/Referenced Incest, Infidelity, M/M, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: He didn't love his wife.
Relationships: John Connor & Kyle Reese, John Connor/Kyle Reese, John Connor/OC, Kate Brewster & John Connor, Kate Brewster/John Connor
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Velleity

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Terminator 3" & "Terminator: Salvation" - or any of the Terminator series, works or characters. Wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: I wanted to do something that examined John Conner's love life and marriage and ended up with this.
> 
> Warnings: anonymous sex, consensual infidelity, mild sexual content, emotional constipation, romance, drama, unresolved tension, character study, incestuous overtones, I am not entirely sure how to tag this because it isn't exactly what it sounds like so read with caution.

He didn't love his wife.

He knew how it sounded.

But the truth was, they'd never had a chance.

They'd been _told_ their future.

It had been an order.

_A fact._

Something they _had_ to do if humanity was going to stand a fighting chance.

There hadn't been another choice.

But they _had_ developed a bond.

A deeply entrenched system of support and love.

Something beyond friendship, but not romantic.

_Never that._

Instead, they had an understanding. It was an arrangement they kept to as the years passed and sex became one of the only respites they had. They would stay together. Playing their part. They would have the children the T-300 told them would grow up to be great leaders and soldiers. But their vows - the ones they'd shared in the fall-out shelter not long after Judgement Day - were just words on a piece of paper.

He wasn't sure if the histories would get that part right. It probably didn't matter. But the longer the war went on, the more he hoped that the truth, as ugly and practical as it was, would come out some how. If only to make him real. _Human_.

Some days he felt like the hero worship was just another way to strip those parts away.

Other days he had worse opinions about it.

The kind that dented metal and bloodied his fists.

He figured it was a good sign that shit like that still bothered him.

The emotions behind it were too human not be to real.

* * *

It wasn't hard to get lost in the throngs of soldiers and civilians looking to forget, especially in the beginning. He gave fake names and lifted the identity badge off the first dead grunt who looked like him. Sticking to dark rooms and bad lighting to hide his face.

When he became the face of the Resistance, he had to be careful. Choosing places that catered to people who didn't want to be recognized. People who had just as much to lose. People who wanted catharsis - warm skin against warm skin. Dying just a little as mutual pleasure peaked. Resisting the urge to make it last in favor of slipping into dirty clothes and leaving separately. Respecting the desire for anonymity so thoroughly that nuclear ash swirling around your boots stood in for goodbye.

All that was why he barely thought anything of it when a man with the upper half of his face covered approached him with an appraising smile not long after he entered underground parkade that operated as a makeshift bar.

Truthfully it wasn't unwelcome.

In fact, he was in the wrong place if he wanted to avoid it.

He was in another city for Resistance business and now that it was done, he was hungry for something more than a plate of chow. Kate was pregnant with their second child and he had an itch he couldn't scratch. It had been far too long since he'd had the company of anything other than his own hand.

He considered the stranger silently, returning the smile with a smirk as he finished his rations. Cocking his hip just so on his stool so his Glock was easily seen. An unspoken warning that he wasn't to be fucked with – not like that anyway. Mildly impressed when the stranger did the same. Turning so a side-arm was visible on his thigh – catching the shape of at least two other small guns hidden underneath his layers.

The stranger either knew what he was doing, or he was a good actor.

Either way, he wasn't opposed.

His mother would have probably had something different to say, but he'd been careful. The bar wasn't well known and changed locations every few weeks. This one was exclusively for those 'in the know'. All in a town where few people had ever seen his face or heard his voice. Not that the former would have mattered, the man wasn't the only one wearing a mask. Everyone here was. That was the point.

"Can I buy you a drink, solider?" the stranger asked, sliding onto the stool next to him.

The curve of his mask cut into his cheek, ill-fitting but enough for now as he smirked at the cold open. Appreciating the honesty, but remembering the jokes it might have earned on some terrible, late night sit-com. Back when there'd still been TV. When there'd still been a lot of things.

"Depends. What motor oil are they pushing tonight?" he answered, automatically committing the delineation of the younger man's neck to memory. The freckle under his chin. The hint of red-blond stubble that was at least three days old. The smudge of dirt on his right thumb.

Constant vigilance was an occupational hazard.

The stranger chuckled, charging the air with a positive tone he felt all the way to his god damned boots. He arched a brow at his own reaction. Shifting as his cock almost twitched right then and there. …It really had been a while.

"Looks like we're both taking a chance then, because I have no idea," the man hummed. "But if you can smell it from here, it's going to be either good or bad – nothing in between."

His smile was genuine this time.

_The guy was smooth, he'd give him that._

He read between the lines and the gentle ethnic twang and figured him for another out of towner as the younger man motioned to the bartender. Someone who was just passing through. Someone he wouldn't see again. Someone who wouldn't get attached.

In this new world, it was about as perfect as they came.

The liquor hit his tongue like a kick in the teeth. He tipped it back anyway, muffling a chuckle when the stranger hissed – cursing under his breath. _Good or bad – nothing in between._ It was good, he decided.

Two more shots had his hand resting on the stranger's thigh, squeezing meaningfully before turning his glass over on the counter. Signaling the bartender to settle his tab. The stranger followed when he tapped a card on the panel beside the door on the opposite wall. He'd already rented a room for the night.

It wasn't exactly a Hilton, but it was protected, private and half-clean.

Good enough.

He'd slept in worse, much worse.

The stranger was a careful weight against his back as the door hushed closed behind them.

He took a breath, counting it out before he turned.

"The masks stay on. No names. No small talk. Nothing identifying or we both walk, understand?" he rasped, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it to the side. Close enough to reach.

The stranger's lips quirked, head slanting down with a cocky air.

The motion was familiar, tugging at him.

_Where had he seen that before?_

"Bet you say that to all your-"

He cut him off with a vicious little kiss. Delighted that when he bit at his lips, the man had the balls to do it back. Pushing him up against the wall with a power that made his lips want to pull back. Fighting the urge to give the same back or just melt.

Instead of deciding, he just kissed him again.

Owning him and the moment in the only way a person could own anything these days.

Temporarily.

"Christ, just look at you," the stranger breathed, when he pushed him across the rickety cot with a groan of springs and cracking concrete. Looking down at him with a strangely genuine blur of awe. "I have to admit, when I saw you…well… You- you remind me of someone, he-"

He pulled the kid on top of him before he could finish. Before he could ruin the moment with words. Showing him in no uncertain terms that it was just them – _just this_ – as they kicked out of their pants and fumbled with the little bottles of gun oil that nearly always got used for slick. They tussled for who was catching and who was pitching before he let himself bend. Giving over control like letting go of a pent-up breath of air as the man's thighs trembled when he slowly pushed inside.

The stranger chewed on the knobs of his spine. Tracing the scars to muffle the name of another man when he came. His heart was too loud in his ears to catch it. And too distracted besides, considering the kid reached around and palmed his cock without prompting. Jacking him off with a deliberate slowness that caught him off guard. Easing the end out of him like he meant it – sweet and maybe even life-ending if it'd lasted. Grinding his softening cock into the wet clutch of his ass with a hopeful familiarity that would probably make him wince with second-hand embarrassment later.

But not today.

For tonight, it was enough.

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?"

He did a double take when Kyle walked into the control room two days later with a trail of bruises decorating his neck and a distinctly self-satisfied expression. Looking more relaxed than he'd seen him in a long time.

The first emotion was strange, but not unexpected. Not sure how to deal with the fact that his father – who didn't know he was going to be his father – would be together with _anyone_. He knew it wasn't fair. That Kyle deserved to be happy, to _be_ with whoever made him happy. He knew deep down there was nothing wrong with it in the scheme of things. He'd seen the way Kyle looked at his mother's picture. But it still itched.

He shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from the fading marks.

He'd never imagined Kyle being interested in anyone else.

But that was tunnel-vision for you.

Of course, Kyle needed to blow off steam.

Of course, he-

"More like _who_ ," Barnes piped up. Grinning toothily as Astrid nudged Kyle's shoulder. Teasing him with pointed questions and a lewd eyebrow wiggle. "They gave you a pretty necklace, hmm? Com'on, do we know her? Or him?"

The second emotion he experienced was belated when Kyle blushed. Head slanting down in such a precise way that it gave him flashbacks to-

_No._

"Where were you?" he rasped hoarsely, feeling like he'd been sucker punched. Quieting the room as a surge of gut-churning terror flooded through him like anaplasias. "What town?"

The stranger had been fast asleep when he woke up.

Mask crooked and rucked up on his face.

But he hadn't looked closer.

_Why hadn't he looked closer?  
_  
Kyle blushed at the attention, then sobered. Catching on to the tanking mood as he looked at him searchingly. Worried that he'd disappointed him. That he'd done something wrong. He watched Kyle's face work through it as the sound of dying frequencies rang in his ears. Seeing the same lips creased around his cock in a heady double-vision as the man opened his mouth to speak before-

Reddish-blond stubble glinted in the fluorescent lights.

_No!_

His hand flew to the bitten-rough of his lips, eyes wide.

Horror was the taste of Kyle's mouth, but only after he'd made it his.

He turned on his heel, stumbling. Hands braced on his knees when he finally hit open air.

_How had he missed it?_

_Every stray atom in him had been focused on Kyle since the moment he'd found him._

_Longer.  
_  
He could find him in the dark.

He knew the rhythm of his breathing.

The way he-

The door creaked open behind him, followed by silence. Holding his breath as Kyle brushed past him with a similarly shaped warm weight as the door clanged shut. He tried to control his breathing, but knew it was a lost cause as nausea roiled in his stomach.

He was going to be sick.

"King's County, I was in King's County. Something came up while you were away. I handled it. …Why? John? What is it? What's wrong?"

He inhaled sharply.

_King's County._

_King's County._

_King's County._

Relief was a strange, visceral thing as he exhaled.

_Thank god._

"John?"

He couldn't look at him, afraid it would show on his face. Instead, he huffed out a half-laugh and shook his head. Spitting thickly onto the dirt as his fingers clenched around his knees. Needing the strength.

"I'm fine," he answered hoarsely, waving him away as Kyle's hand fluttered at the small of his back. Like he was afraid he was about to topple over. "Must have been a bad ration."

Kyle's hand stayed where it was, but he felt the weight of his eyes more.

He felt dirty.

Except he didn't shrug away.

_He couldn't._

"You sure?"

He nodded, tongue dry and thick in his mouth.

"Go on, I'll be right in."

* * *

It was a long time before he could bring himself to circle back to his old haunts. Forced to wonder every time a stranger approached him with a hopeful smile why he'd been so sure it had been Kyle.

The truth was, he'd probably die still afraid of the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- Velleity: volition in its weakest form. Or a mere wish, unaccompanied by an effort to obtain it.


End file.
